


Merry Christmas, John Constantine

by OverARainbow



Category: Constantine (Comic), Constantine (TV)
Genre: Angels, Angst, Christmas, Christmas Angst, Demons, F/M, Gen, Ghosts, Hell, Magic, Pain, Sadness, Suffering, depresión
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-21 22:56:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13153776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OverARainbow/pseuds/OverARainbow
Summary: A ghost in a long trench coat wanders the night on Christmas Eve.





	Merry Christmas, John Constantine

**Author's Note:**

> This is a different kind of piece for me, and it came out...eh alright. 
> 
> I just really wanted to write a quick Constantine fic before I dive back into my Lucifer stories.

No one understands ghosts. 

Not fully. 

You could spend all your life studying, and researching, and you probably would not get any closer to the truth than those who have tried before you. You could see ghosts, and speak to them everyday, but you still will fully never understand them.

Not know what they want. 

What they do when we aren’t looking for them.

Never understand how they work, or how they function.

They will simply be ghosts.

A shadow in the background, a whisper in the dark, but nothing more.

A ghost lurks down the street. You probably won’t stop and stare. You probably won’t care, but he is there.

The snow softly falls, dusting his trench coat in a soft layer of sweet powder. Though this ghost probably preferred the kind you snorted, but there was none of that to speak of this night. 

He slowly trudges through the snow as it slowly starts to pile up on the sides of the street. A few dim lights lighting his way as he carries on with his journey, where exactly he is going. Not even he knows for sure. 

The soft murmurs of a chorus of voices in the background send him down the road, wandering aimlessly as children pass him by. Sucking on their candy canes as hard as the ghost sucks on his cigarette. A puff of smoke escaping his lips as they giggle on by. Screaming words of joy, and hopefulness, as the ghost simply takes another drag on his cigarette. 

A few more people pass him as he keeps sucking on the sweet relief of nicotine. They give him side glances, and carry on.

They don’t give him a second glance. 

They have forgotten him by the time they turn the street corner. There murmurs fading into the snowy night. 

The ghost throws down the cigarette and stomps it out. His blue eyes blazing as he looks up at the sky. Snowflakes gently landing on his face, as he blows out a soft breath. The puff dancing around his face tickling his nose as he shoved his hands in his trench coat and carries on.

He wanders into a pub, ordering a drink as he leans against the wall. 

Watching a few people drink cheerfully as he waits for his order. They clang there drinks together and sing songs the ghost doesn’t recognize. They down there beers as they happily chatter the night away. 

The ghost simply grabs his beer, and downs it. Not saying a word as he throws money down on the table, and carries on. 

He carries on his life this way.

In the shadows apart of the unseen, apart of the unknown. 

They will never pay attention to him.

But he will always pay attention to them. He will listen to every word they say in a drunken slur. Catch every rude comment they throw his way as they walk past him. Hold onto every joyful word they sing as they run off into the night. 

He burns the images into his mind. 

Holds onto them tightly as he enters his room for the night. His trench coat slipping off his shoulders and hitting the floor in a soft thud. His hands fumble gently as he loosens the tie around his neck. Slipping it off and throwing it on the floor. The buttons on his shirt slip away from there binds, as his shirt too falls to the ground. He gently throws his body onto the bed. 

His hands reach forward as they gently grab onto to the pillow beside him. 

Holding onto something that he knows he can’t lose.

Can’t be ripped away from him, as everything else has.

As the lives that surround him will one day disappear, and it will all be his fault. 

Always his fault. 

They won’t even know. They won’t even understand that they have been in trouble this whole time. That the one person that could save them, can’t even save himself.

Can’t stop the hurt from coming.

Stop the pain from coming every night in his dreams. The only thing to help quiet the pain was a lumpy motel pillow that he clutched so tightly as he started to try and fall asleep.

Plagued by the demons that whispered in his ear every night. 

Calling his name.

Calling him to join them.

Telling him he will fail.

Telling him he will lose yet again and this time it’s all of humanity that will pay the price. 

He clutches his pillow tighter as he longs for something better. Something safer. Quieter. More, normal. Not to be plagued with demons in the day and in his sleep. Not to know that if he surrenders to them all of humanity will fall with him. 

He is the only hope.

He is there only savior.

As children awaken in the morning to open their gifts with bright smiling faces. Without a care in the world, John Constantine will carry on.

A ghost to most. 

A menace to many.

A disgrace to everyone he knows. 

But he will save them. 

The women who sits quietly in the corner ignored by this ghost of a man sighs softly as she sips her tea. John had left hours ago without a word to her. Chas leaving hours before that to be with his daughter. Zed, simply has no where else to be. 

So she watched him. She watched him sleep, plagued with nightmares knowing that the anxiety of day to day life for John Constantine did not leave him in what normally was the blissful world of dreams. He was always fighting, she knew this. 

Always wandering.

Always searching.

Always trying.

Even tonight. When the word was supposed to be at peace. She knew it wasn’t, and it wouldn’t be if he didn’t carry the worlds plagues of pure fear on his shoulder and take care of it himself. 

To save the world, and his soul. That’s the length he would have to go through. 

He would half to hear a young girls pleas for some kind of freedom.

A man's dying wish just to be like him, to be respected by him. 

The echoing cries of a mother he never knew. 

Every night they would call him.

Remind him. Of what he has lost, and how hard he has failed. 

But he would keep going. Always moving. Always striving for something more.

Zed quietly rose from her seat in the corner, and softly padded over to the dirty blonde. Who lay clutching a pillow as he softly murmured words of horror like a scared child. She gently moved a few stray pieces of hair from over his eyes. She leaned forward gently placing a kiss on his head. 

Despite what the universe may be telling him. Despite what it anything of a man that had failed so hard so many times. A man who was responsible for the untimely death of so many.

But, responsible for saving so many more.

He out of all people deserve a peaceful christmas no matter how hard that may be for one John Constantine. 

Zed knew he deserved it. 

“Merry Christmas John Constantine,” She said softly as her gaze looked up towards the ceiling. “And may God put your mind to rest.”

She was already back at her chair, when his grip on the pillow loosened, and he took a soft sigh of pure piece. 

A christmas miracle if Zed had ever seen one.

**Author's Note:**

> Constantine was a huge inspiration for me as a writer, and as well as the reason I started watching Lucifer. So I owe it all to my adorable ass hat John Constantine.
> 
> Maybe a proper fic for him in the further, we will see.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> Your comments keep me writing so let me know what you think!


End file.
